Too late to regret
by TheWritingFairy
Summary: Short one'shot from Melrin's POV after Arthur's death in series 5.


Watching the boat drift further and further off into the lake, Merlin sighed; he couldn't help thinking this was all his fault. He'd lost his King, his master, but most importantly his best friend, and for what? To protect himself. That's what it all came down to. If he'd just not listened to the dragon and told Morgana about himself, helped her a little, then maybe she wouldn't have become the monster she did and none of this would have happened. Shoving the unwelcome thoughts of 'destiny will always prevail' out of his head, Merlin closed his eyes. He'd never been big on praying, but now seemed like a good time to start. He prayed that Gwen would get through this, that Gaius would carry on fine without him, for the souls of his lost friend Gwaine, even Morgana and Mordred. But most of all, he prayed that Arthur's soul could rest now.

Merlin threw his head back and looked to the darkening sky. He remembered only too well the day this all started, the day he realised Morgana had magic but he'd been warned then not to reveal his own to her. She was so confused, so lost and scared. Scared not only for her life – for if Uther were to find out, father or not, he'd have had her burnt at the stake – but scared of herself. The power she possessed terrified and Merlin could only really imagine what she was going through. He'd had his whole life to come to terms with what he was but all she'd ever known was that magic was bad and then she suddenly 'acquired' it? God only knows she must have been petrified; she had no one to turn to, no one to tell, no one to help her.

And then Morgause came along. Merlin cursed to himself. Why did he listen?! He wished more than anything now that he'd helped her because maybe then she wouldn't have turned to her sister, would have been so easily swayed o the dark side. As things had turned out, she had welcomed Morgause's 'help' with open arms. At first, it may have just been because Morgause had magic too. Not having to hide who she truly was, being able to open up to someone must have been such a welcome change. Eventually though, Morgause's evil penetrated her and consumed her entirely, turning her into an unrecognisably evil, powerful young woman.

And yet, sometimes Merlin thought he could still see some good in her. He guessed that he was just hoping she'd realise her mistake, reject Morgause and return to being the kind, innocent woman that she used to be. Right up until the very end, Merlin had hoped she'd change. But she didn't and as much as he wished she had, he couldn't bring himself to regret driving that sword through her, merely hours ago, for she had caused so much pain and anguish with her evil actions. The number of innocent people she'd either corrupted or mercilessly slaughtered was unforgivable.

Merlin bought himself back to the present and concentrated on the flaming boat carrying Arthur's dead body. Fresh tears escaped the young warlock's eyes. Yes, Arthur had undoubtedly made mistakes, and his final one of choosing to kill Kara had proved fatal and unleashed a chain of events that would lead to his death. Nonetheless, Arthur had never been a bad person and he certainly didn't deserve to die. Merlin tired desperately not to remember all the good times they'd had together, knowing it would hurt too much and he couldn't deal with that yet. Instead, he allowed Arthur's death to fill his mind.

He remembered how Mordred ran his indestructible blade through Arthur's side and momentarily wanted to bring the druid boy back to life just to kill him all over again. But then he recalled the look on his face as Arthur repaid him the gesture and fatally wounded him in return. The look on Merlin's face changed from one of distraught to confusion as he realised Mordred had smiled. Smiled? Of course. He was just relieved everything was finally over. He wasn't evil at heart, not really, just misguided. He'd let his anger drive him instead of thinking about things calmly. Renewed angst rocked Merlin's body as he let out an anguished cry. If Arthur had just spared Kara's life, Mordred wouldn't have been so hysterical as to turn to Morgana. She'd never have found out who Merlin really was and he could've protected Arthur.

The emotional young man continued to think like this – thinking what if and arriving at the fact that it was a different person's fault each time – until the boat was almost out of sight. In the now very dim light, all Merlin could see was a light on the water getting smaller and smaller. Soon it would be gone, and Arthur with it.

Merlin exhaled deeply, fresh tears rolling down his cheeks, and realised he was holding something. He looked down to find Arthur's sword, Excalibur, in his hand. He smiled to himself, even managed to let out a half-hearted laugh, as he recollected the day Arthur had pulled the sword out of the stone. He'd been so upset thinking he wasn't good enough to be king, thinking everyone had given up on him. Okay, so he didn't really pull the sword out of the stone by himself, Merlin's magic helped somewhat, but that wasn't the point. The point was, Arthur had renewed his faith in himself, believed he was worthy of being King and the people believed in him again, not that most of them had truly thought otherwise.

He remembered Arthur's triumphant smile as he held up the sword for everyone to see. Merlin would miss that smile. He'd miss waking Arthur up in the morning and have him grumble at him, throw things at him and call him all the names under the sun. He'd miss getting so annoyed at the King that he'd call him anything and everything that came to mind and even maybe want to hit him. He'd miss riding, just the two of them. He'd miss watching Arthur and Gwen eat supper together, seeing how happy they were together. He'd miss…

He couldn't keep doing this. It wasn't doing anyone any good. He looked down at the sword once more and knew what he had to do with it. As much as he wanted to keep it to remember his best friend by, he couldn't. With a deep breath, Merlin lifted the sword high above his head and threw it as hard as he could into the lake. He watched as the sword the summersaulted through the air, gleaming as the remaining light caught it, before it should have landed with a splash in the water. But it didn't. A hand, a wrist and then an arm, thrust itself from the lake, causing the water around it to ripple, and caught the sword by its handle. It then pulled the sword into the lake with it, leaving Merlin to stare at the spot where it had been.

Merlin watched as the wooden boat finally disappeared and knew what he was going to do. He wouldn't return to Camelot, he couldn't, there were too many memories. The prophecy of Arthur returning when Camelot needed him most entered the young man's head and, whether consciously or not, he decided he'd wait for him. It was the only thing to do. He would wait by the lake – for days, months, years, centuries – until Arthur returned to him, however long it would take.

A/N: HI guys! This was a spur of the moment thing, as the majority of my one-shots tend to be. I don't really have a lot to say about it, other than I'm dedicating it to my best friend and writing partner Kim (Narnianofcairparavel). She's been down recently and I just hope this cheers her up, although, knowing her like I do, I have a feeling ait may do the opposite and make her cry, But the thought is there. So Kim, this one's for you. Please r&r?


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